


Of Monsters and Men

by TheFeistyRogue



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, Gen, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Triggers, Unhappy Ending, Werewolf Remus Lupin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 11:26:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17621516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFeistyRogue/pseuds/TheFeistyRogue
Summary: He is a monster and he nearly killed a man.





	Of Monsters and Men

**Author's Note:**

> Note the warnings.

Everything hurts, and the betrayal hurts worst of all. Remus curls tighter in upon himself, wrapping his gangly arms around his scarred, knobby knees. Perhaps if he squeezes tight enough and wishes hard enough, he will simply disappear.

Distantly, he's aware that someone is saying his name. Remus's eyes are shut and he does not intend to open them. He hopes that they will go away. Ever since Madam Pomfrey—in hesitant, cautious words—informed him of what occurred the night before, he has turned away from all those who would speak to him.

There are bruises across his chest and stomach. He can feel them throbbing and when he tenses his muscles, the scratches and lacerations along his back and shoulders split once more. Madam Pomfrey has bandaged him up, though he is not sure if he deserves it.

He knows he does not deserve it.

Remus is a monster. He is a slavering beast with claws and fangs and a feral nature that cannot be subdued. He does not often remember much of the night of a full moon; just the occasional memory—distant, yet chilling.

_A pale, terrified face, framed by dark, lank hair._

Wetness soaks his pillow. Remus is crying. He feels torn apart, not just in body, but in soul.  _How could_ —but no, he cuts off the thought. This calamity is no one's fault but his own. He is a monster; he is a vicious beast; he is a weapon that strikes in the night, the perfect human predator.

He does not stir, nor speak, nor open his eyes. Eventually, those around him leave as the hours drag on. The day first grows bright, then the sky darkens once more, and he hates it,  _hates it_. Nothing is worse than the passage of time because with each hour that passes, each day the moon wanes, he is that much closer to a night when it begins to wax once more.

In the darkness, with just the hated moonlight casting Hogwarts's infirmary in shades of grey, Remus uncurls. He allows himself a heartbeat to contemplate the night before...

Sirius had taunted Snape into following Remus into the Shrieking Shack, and consequently Remus, in monster form, had nearly killed Snape. He spares a moment's thought for James, who saved Snape, even if he didn't prevent the atrocity in the first place.

Remus has been exposed. Worse: he nearly killed a man.

He sobs, finally, certain that it will bring Pomfrey running, but unable to care. No one comes, even as his tears run dry, and he is as grateful as he is bitter.

He does not deserve comfort.

He takes a breath, and another, calming himself. His path seems clear.

Remus is a monster and he has nearly killed a man. If not for James, he would already be a murderer. He will not allow it to happen ever again.

When Remus is released from the infirmary, he walks to the Gryffindor dorm with his head down. He remains silent, even as James shoots him worried looks, Peter plays the fool, and Sirius broods, an apology on his lips he has yet to utter.

No one looks up as he enters the common room—nobody even knows what has happened. Remus is not certain if that makes it better or worse. Somehow, for some reason, Dumbledore has sworn Snape to secrecy. He knows that Snape will never forgive Remus for that.

He walks up the stairs and settles on his bed. A flick of his wand draws the drapes around it, closing him in. He is not hiding, no matter what they might think.

On the other side of the drape, Sirius sighs, drawing the sound out.

"Shut it," James hisses and Peter titters nervously. They have a whispered argument before Peter reminds them that if they wait any longer, they'll be unforgivably late to Transfiguration.

"We're just going to class," James says, voice filled with false cheer. "See you later, Remus."

Remus is relieved to hear them clatter from the room.

When they are gone, he collects himself in slow increments before he pushes himself to his feet, lethargy in his bones. He tidies his little corner of their dorm, folding his clothing into his trunk. On his bed, he stacks his books, parchment and quills lined up next to them.

His cauldron is old but sturdy. It has never let him down. He places that under Peter's bed, for he's never been able to afford one that is not dented and worn. Peter is a shy boy, and there's a kindness in him that Remus sometimes admires. He hopes Peter will find someone worth his devotion.

Remus has a first edition copy of Charles Dickens's  _Great Expectations_. He tucks it under James's pillow, knowing that Lily has always coveted it. James lacks for nothing, but Lily will appreciate the gesture, he's sure. Hopefully, it will encourage the budding romance between them.

He has other trinkets, but that is all they are, nothing precious enough to give away.

Pausing at the foot of Sirius's bed, Remus swallows.

Sirius had only revealed the truth within, but something inside Remus trusted him not to, to keep Remus' secrets as if they were his own. Despite himself, he feels betrayed. But Sirius—capricious, thoughtless Sirius—would not have realised the implications of his folly. Remus tucks his last bar of Honeydukes into the bottom of Sirius's trunk, and hopes that he understands that it means forgiveness.

Something clenches in Remus' chest, a lion's claws digging into his heart.  _Remus the Cowardly Lion_ , he thinks.

But he's not really a lion at all, just a monster pretending to roar. He doesn't want to pretend any longer. He's tired. He's grown weary of the façade.

What is the point?

His friends risk their lives every moon just to contain him. He's selfish and arrogant and such a fool. He does not deserve the life they have given him, but he appreciates it all the same.

Remus glances around his dorm room. "Thank you," he whispers. He owes them so much.

The castle is silent as he walks through it, avoiding the busier corridors lined with classrooms. His footsteps echo against the stone. The sound is hollow and something about that rings true. Remus feels hollow, like there's nothing inside him but a gaping black hole of pain and self-hatred. A Dementor lives inside his chest, sucking away all happiness he might hope to cling to.

As he climbs the stone staircase of the Astronomy Tower, his mind is set.

_Two dark eyes, wide with terror, and all Remus feels is the burning, all-consuming urge to bite…_

Remus clenches his fists. His nails are blunt, unlike his claws—his palms do not bleed. He wishes they would. He pokes a bruise on his chest, flinches away, and then does it again. It hurts. He bares his teeth in a half-smile.

The crest of the Astronomy Tower draws near. He's panting a little—it's a long climb, for the tower is high.

Remus's hands are shaking. His heart is racing it his chest. It's easier to blame the physical exertion.

The view from the top is immense. He's never fully appreciated it before. Birds fly above the trees, dipping down into the darkness of the forest, shadows against the bright sky. Sunlight is warm on his face even as a cool Scottish breeze tugs at his robe.

For a moment, Remus imagines himself as a normal student. If not for the beast inside his belly, he could have been.

But he is not. Instead, he is a monster and he nearly killed a man.

How could he ever let himself forget that wolves and dogs may be alike in looks, but not in nature?

Remus has prepared; he is ready. He does not want to die, but even more, he does not want to live.

He steps forward and looks down.

It's a long way. Even his body, weathered and worn and strong from the wolf inside him, would not survive the fall.

Is it right to call it a fall, when he intends to jump?

He takes another step, toes on the edge of the stone. The sunlight has faded to grey and even his bones are cold. He aches, as he has done since he awoke to Pomfrey holding a silent and wary vigil at his side.

The end is near and he allows himself one selfish thought:  _Why, Sirius, why did you betray me so?_

A tear falls down his cheek.

He takes a breath.

He's ready.

Remus jumps.

**Author's Note:**

> https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/  
> https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/suicide/  
> https://www.helpguide.org/articles/depression/coping-with-depression.htm/


End file.
